


Rock Bottom Makes For Solid Foundations

by AnxiousOwl



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Erik Has Feelings, Erik and Moira are awesome, Erik is good with mutant kids, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousOwl/pseuds/AnxiousOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Moira are social workers stretched thin, especially Erik, who is given as many mutant cases as he can handle.</p><p>However he knows that no matter what he does, alone it won't ever be enough.</p><p>Enter Charles, a potential mutant benefactor, whose presence forces Erik to reconsider his priorities, both to himself and the children he works with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's lots of grumpy, surly, bite-your-head off Erik (which is always fun to write), so I thought I'd try a more well-adjusted Erik, but still with the rough edges.
> 
> For now I've done very little planning but the idea wouldn't let me go until I got something down.
> 
> This is just setting the scene.

“Look, I know how much you want to help every kid that comes through your pile – and don’t try to deny it – but you’re going to run yourself ragged, taking on so many cases. That won’t help anybody.”

Erik inhaled purposefully, hands broad against the steering wheel. It was a well-worn conversation for them, almost comforting in its familiarity. “You saw the note on his file, he’s a high priority emergency case,” he emphasised with his hand flexing away from the wheel, “With his results, I’m not about to let a baseline screw this up.”

Moira just assumed the usual expression that usually followed Erik’s diversions: stubborn acceptance. She had stopped taking offence at his barbs about non-mutant social workers years ago, when she quickly realised the strong truth behind it; mutant workers empathised with mutant kids far better than baselines. They could understand the trials they faced in growing up, having often been through it themselves, and had higher success rates in finding places for them or helping to stabilise them.

Yes, this kid had considerable strength in his mutation, but Erik wasn’t the only social worker in the district. However he was one of the only social workers with more than five years of experience in cases of mutant children or children with mutant relations. He had an impressive record, even with his somewhat curt personality.

She knew this was why he let himself get roped into case after case, she knew how he felt about it – if he didn’t go, who would?

He pulled up beside a small terrace sandwiched in a row of roughly ten, all brown, square and squat in shape. This was Moira’s stop for her home visit. He had been heading out when she had and it made sense to give her a lift as the house was right on his route. Moira’s case involved a young girl who had been struggling with depression and suicidal ideation. A social worker and counsellor had been involved and slow but steady progress was being made, to Moira’s relief and approval.

She grabbed the strap of the handbag and the sturdy ring-binder in her lap and got out, leaning back in momentarily to fix Erik with a pointed look.

“If you need anything then text me. It’ll be on silent but I’ll get it. Or call the office. Okay?”

“Sure.” Erik schooled his face into one that he hoped was reassuring, “You’re over-reacting, it’ll be fine.”

After all, he was no stranger to young mutants, scared and out of control.

\---

Around ten minutes later, and after wrangling a few particularly small and awkward to navigate roads, he pulled up across the road from a slightly more spacious terrace than the one where Moira was, but in worse shape. The bricks were stained and the window frames were patchy where the previously white paint had crumbled away and the surface below had gone dark with moisture.

They’d been aware of concerns regarding the boy’s well-being and a visit had been scheduled for next week, but a call by the boy’s mother elicited an emergency response: he was shouting, screaming and had barricaded himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms, screaming more if anyone tried to enter. Apparently some aggressive behaviour had also occurred, which the mother had wanted to call the police for, but Erik and the social worker on call had persuaded her to give them a chance before calling anyone else in. The kid didn’t need a bunch of uniforms in there too.

He got out and checked the road before loping across, hunching his shoulders against the mild spray of rain. He knocked on the door, hard. He furrowed his brow as he went over his plan of action. Calm the parents, keep them away, calm the kid. Then hopefully get everyone settled enough to find out what’s been going on and work out what to do next. All good and well in theory - but that was the best case scenario.

After some steady thumping that gradually grew louder, the door opened with some scraping of the handle. Erik could feel the imprint of the woman’s hand clamped on the handle. She was mousy and her eyes looked small, hard and tired. Her mouth curled in annoyance at the sight of him.

“From the social? We called you over an hour ago.” She admonished, crossing her arms.

“I’m sorry if it took us a while, we’ve been very busy this week,” he placated, “May I come in?”

She shuffled out of the way to let him inside and immediately started to walk down the hall and up the narrow stairs, pushing stray wisps of thin pale hair over her head. He rubbed his shoes on the ratty doormat hurriedly and followed suite.

The stairs turned right sharply and opened up to a cramped landing surrounded by four other doors. One was entirely shut and had a few scuff marks on it. The boy’s mother gestured to it, “He’s locked himself in there, pushed the dresser in front. Kept goddamn screaming, must be deaf by now.”

Erik frowned and considered the barrier for a moment. He turned to the mother. “Why don’t you go and relax downstairs, I’ll see if I can talk to him and let you know how we get on.”

He tried to say it as amicably as possible but it was laced with a distinctly authoritative tone. He wasn’t here to pander. She exhaled and shrugged her shoulders, looking harried, and walked past him downstairs. He waited until he heard her enter the kitchen and returned to the door. He came up to it and pressed his palms to it gently. The boy must have surely heard them talking.

“Hey. My name’s Erik. I’m a social worker,” he paused, allowing the boy to absorb his words. Going too fast and reeling off a speech only spooks them, especially the vulnerable ones. Not to mention the insincerity, that’s what had always pissed him off.

“Your name’s Sean, right?”

Silence. But no screaming or throwing objects yet.

“It sounds like you’ve been having a tough time today. I’m here to help you feel better, Sean, and try to make things better as home for you. Is that something you want?”

Still silence.

“…I know that you have an incredible gift. It must be hard when people don’t understand it. I know the feeling.”

He was about to continue when he heard a movement from inside the room. Then a voice permeated the silence from within.

“…What would you know?” It sounded hoarse, most likely from overuse.

“Good question,” he nodded to himself, “I can do things that made some people scared when I was a kid. I scared myself sometimes, too. It took a while, but now I can control it and things are better.”

After a few moments the boy responded, “What do you do?”

Erik was pleased that he’d managed to draw him out of his shell, at least by a fraction. “I can alter magnetic fields. In a practical sense, I can move and control metal.”

There was a great deal more to it, but that wasn’t important right now. It was simply a neutral focal point.

“...That sounds cool,” Sean sounds a little sadder, a little wistful. Then his voice breaks slightly.

“Mine is just a mess.”

Oh, Erik understood perfectly.

“I know it feels like that right now and you feel like you’re the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing, but you’re not. Nearly every child with a mutation has no idea what they’re doing, or what’s going to happen. Things get better with time, for the most part. What you have is a gift,” he reiterated, “It’s amazing. There’s probably no-one else in the world who can do what you can.”

He stopped for now. He would allow Sean to make the next move. He almost didn’t hear the small sob.

“They hate me, my mum and dad. I’m just trouble. I hate it here.”

Erik took note of this and filed it away with a thick mental underline. “If you want, Sean, we can talk about that. If you don’t feel happy here, we can try to work out how to make it so that you are.”

He wasn’t making any promises, he couldn’t. “How would you feel about letting me come inside?”

He would come onto Sean’s territory instead of making him leave it, he hoped at least. Feet padded to the door and stopped there; Erik could feel the zips on his jeans. Finally, a rough sound indicated the chest of drawers shifting and the door opened by a few inches. A sallow face framed with messy, pale orange curls appeared. Erik gave what he thought was his most friendly smile i.e. one without teeth.

“Hey.”

“…Hey.”

Sean stepped back and Erik entered, closing the door behind him again. He stayed near the door as Sean returned to sit down on the bed heavily. He quirked his head. “Can you show me, metal-man?”

Erik raised an eyebrow and smiled again. A gentle undulation of his hand made his car keys, house keys, change and phone float out of his pockets and settle into a slow orbit around him. Sean’s eyes became round like marbles and for the first time that day the hint of a grin appeared. “…Sweet.”

“Thanks.”

He let his possession return to his hands and pocketed them again, tone becoming more serious. “Thanks for letting me in, too. You said th-” Erik trailed off when he saw the boy’s arm.

There was a faint ring of purple between his wrist and elbow. Sean noticed his line of sight and grimaced, tugging his already short sleeve lower, as though he could hide what Erik had already seen. He broached it carefully. “How did you get that, Sean?”

He was expecting excuses and he received as such.

“I fell,” he blurted out, never mind the fact that Erik knew of no object or surface that could give a bruise _around_ a limb on impact. Compression, however, could.

He put his hands in his pockets and adopted the most non-threatening stance he could. “Did someone grab you, Sean?”

Erik wasn’t one to beat around the bush, something which had initially been a liability in his early training but had proved useful in the right circumstance. A lot of kids didn’t like the bullshit padding.

Sean kept quiet and his eyes wandered. That was a yes, then. That gave Erik grounds to remove him from an unsafe environment, if there was sufficient justification. He told Sean as much. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one to hear.

The door was flung open and Erik spun around, immediately on alert, while Sean jumped to his feet. His mother had returned with his father in tow, a man around an inch shorter than Erik, but denser. His hair was a coppery ginger as was the five o’clock shadow around his mouth, twisted in a grimace. “Are you putting words in his mouth?”

Erik held up hands, even though it was last thing this man deserved. Erik was no telepath, but Sean’s cowering posture and the mother’s guilty face said a thousand words. “I assure you, Mr Cassidy, nothing like that was happening.”

The man advanced, visibly trying to reign in his obvious temper but failing. “I think you’d better leave, Mr…”

“Lehnsherr.”

“Lehnsherr. You’ve gotten the door open, we can take it from here.”

He moved further into Erik’s space, raising not only Erik’s hackles, but Sean’s as well.

It showed as Sean let loose a truly deafening shriek that blew all three of them towards the door, rippling vibrations greater than all of the previous ones that day.

His mother scooted backwards towards the bannister in the landing and his father followed after, feet trailing along the threshold to the room, both of them dazed and disorientated and unable to right themselves due to the continuing blast. Erik tried to anchor himself by focussing on the steel joists in the roof of the house but the sheer force of Sean’s voice left him struggling for purchase. “Sean! You need to calm down!” he said, each word spaced out as he strained to stay upright. “Sean, please calm down! You’re safe, you’re safe!”

Meanwhile the window had shattered, spewing glass out onto the street, tiny shards showering down onto the road and Erik’s car, the noise drawing neighbours out of their houses.

Sean began to falter, both from exhaustion and Erik’s wrung out pleas. He slowly petered out, slumping down to the floor, back to the bed and head dropping between his knees. Erik stumbled forwards from the stark change in momentum and lost his balance, falling gracelessly forwards.

There was too much pressure in his head, the clenching of his power pushing against the throbbing in his ears. His head lolled sideways and his cheek rubbed against the carpet. He tried to ground himself in the sensation. An all-encompassing high pitched tone filled every spare space in his head.

Moira was going to kick his ass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik now has the challenge of getting Sean away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still setting the scene, I did some research to flesh out the legal bits and based the general rules on those in England. But you can't really expect too much realism because ~mutants~.
> 
> After this we'll hopefully get some fluff because I'm a sap at heart.

Despite the ringing in his head and the pulse in his temples about to burst through his skin, Erik rolled over gingerly and braced himself with one hand to take stock.

In front of him was Sean, curled up and ready to be absorbed by the ground. His head was tilted upwards slightly to watch Erik warily. There were smatterings of glass below the window, which was now channelling the sounds of a neighbourhood brought to life. A faint wail of sirens bled into the street. He couldn’t bear to turn around entirely just yet but couldn’t hear much apart from a few low groans from the boy’s father and a whimper from the mother. Both alive and most likely incensed – or at least they would be once they’d managed to stand up.

Keeping his eyes tied to Sean’s, he gently manoeuvred himself into a messy seated position. He tried to look reassuring. “I’m okay, see? They’re fine, too,” he added as an after-thought.

Sean frowned.

“Look, all in one piece,” he reinforced, gesturing weakly up and down himself.

“…Y’sure?” His voice was even hoarser than before. Just the idea of those screams scraping past the boys vocal cords was enough to make Erik feel for him.

He nodded. “That was… very impressive.”

Sean bristled slightly, but there was no doubt that it was a pleasant surprise. “Um, thanks. That’s… probably the first time anyone’s thought that this,” he swivelled his eyes around the upturned room, “was ‘impressive’.”

“Then maybe they weren’t paying attention,” he replied, before another throb broke his train of thought.

He got to his feet a little drunkenly, but otherwise with composure intact. “I think it might be an idea to come out with me for a while so my colleagues can talk to your parents and let them cool down a bit. How does that sound to you?”

It sounded like a choice even though there really wasn’t one. He didn’t like to be told what to do and he knew teenagers didn’t either. Sean looked to one side for a moment and sucked in his cheeks like he had a boiled sweet in his mouth, contemplating the offer. “…How long for? I mean, like, will I need clothes and stuff or what?”

He looked tired. Erik thought to himself quickly: _parents, house, kid’s obviously upset, don’t forget the bruise…_ , “Probably a week to start with. We can figure out what’s going to happen after. So…,” he quickly surveyed the bedroom.

Whilst decent in size it also posed as a laundry and storage room, limiting how much space was actually Sean’s. There was a washer hamper in the corner with an ironing board propped against it, covered in a loud yellow sunflower pattern with a burn hole in one corner where the iron had been forgotten. There was a book about race cars sitting in the seat of a small pink pram. An empty cardboard box about the size of Erik’s coffee table was open at one end, the uproar causing it to spew bubble wrap onto the floor.

“Okay, how about you get some stuff together: jeans, shirts, underwear, socks, an extra pair of shoes, school books, any personal things,” he listed, getting to business.

Sean complied without complaint. He dragged a large, well-worn rucksack from underneath the bed and trudged over to the chest of drawers that had been acting as his barricade. Whilst he stuffed clothes into the open mouth of the bag, Erik stood at the doorway, acting as his new one. He eyed the parents. The father was leaning against the wall, muttering angrily at his wife, who was rubbing her ankle and scowling up at him from the floor. The both noticed him immediately, but he didn’t give them a chance to crank up the situation again.

“I understand that you’ve had a stressful day. However from what I have witnessed I have reasonable doubt as to Sean’s safety in this house. Had the case been different, I would have worked with you to improve your relationship and the situation at home. At the moment I believe that removing him from this environment will be the best option.”

His father spluttered, “You need an order to do that! You can’t just-”

He quirked an eyebrow: so the man was informed. “You’re correct, Mr Cassidy, I would need an emergency protection order – however the police can remove a child for up to 72 hours to a place of safety without such an order. In the meantime I intend to file for an emergency protection order to extend that period.”

Whilst his father was incensed (as Erik had predicted) his mother simply seemed to deflate, suddenly sick of all that had transpired. She shook her head and ran her thin fingers through her wispy hair again, quickly plodding down the stairs. Erik turned back to the father, “It would be in your best interests to let us leave calmly and conduct our investigations smoothly.”

The man looked confused, not sure how to react. Should it be with anger, with sorrow, with indifference? It seemed almost as though the man was offended by Erik’s attempt to undermine his authority rather than his son’s welfare. He was mourning the loss of something that he felt belonged to him, that the state had no business in meddling with. That was sad.

With mutant charges the rules varied considerably, whereas with baselines they were far more clear-cut. The incredibly vast number of ways a mutation could manifest meant each case had to be handled with careful attention to detail. In many of his cases, the child would often have a more obvious or powerful mutation than the average. This meant that removal was necessary far more often in mutant children than non-mutant children.

Downstairs, Erik could hear the expected noises of voices floating up from the passage. Sean’s mother had retreated downstairs in time to open the door to the police, just in the nick of time. Erik didn’t usually bluff like that, but with the sirens and glass, it was almost guaranteed that they’d be getting a visit from his friends in blue.

He looked at the father again pointedly, who had now also noticed their guests. He softened his voice by another degree. “Does Sean have any particular medical issues we might not know about? Food allergies, asthma, eczema, any medication he might need?”

He shrugged his shoulders and answered hesitantly, as though one wrong word would make Erik jump him. “His mam usually keeps an eye on that. But he got ill a lot as a kid, flu and colds.”

“Mm-hm. Thank you. For now,” he pulled out his wallet and slipped out a card for the office with his mobile number printed on, “here are my contact details, we’ll be in touch very soon.”

He glanced back into the room. Sean was sitting on the bed again with his bag at his feet, listening in to the conversation and looking resigned. “Ready?”

He nodded and got to his feet and came up close behind Erik, who gently ushered him in front and held his father’s gaze as they passed and descended the stairs.

After some juggling of information and exchanging of details and identification with the police officer heading the group – Logan, good guy, Erik was glad he was on duty – he led Sean outside towards his car. Inside, Logan clarified rights and other legal information with Sean’s parents.

The sky was cloudy and the kind of light the sun had decided on today gave everything a greyish tinge.

Sean waited on the pavement beside Erik’s car as Erik brushed some of the shattered glass off of the bonnet with the arm of his jacket, grinning. “Like I said, impressive.”

Sean gave a small smile and got into the passenger seat as Erik remained standing outside the driver’s door, arm on the roof. He patted down his pockets and pulled out his phone. _That’s_ when he noticed the three missed calls and four frantic text messages from Moira. _Oops_. He bit the bullet and dialled her up, fully expecting the impending onslaught – he wasn’t disappointed.

“What in the _hell_ , Erik! What did I say? Do you remember what I said? Get help!”

He grimaced. “I know, I know, things got a little… heated. I would’ve called if there was a convenient time, you know that.”

Moira huffed down the line. “Of course, Erik the goddamn superhero, thinks he’s invincible. What if I hadn’t gotten the police down there in time, hmm? You wouldn’t’ve had a leg to stand on without an order.”

He rubbed his forehead, suddenly glad the in-call volume was on low, “Yeah, yeah – so that was you?”

“Yes it was me. Heard the blast from there, I was lucky Janey was showing me her new rabbit in the back garden otherwise I might not have heard it. Luckily, I did and put two and two together.”

Erik was sure Moira was some sort of guardian sent down by the big man to save his ass. He wasn’t going to say angel because no angel could down shots like she could. “Well he’s here with me right now so I’m going to bring him back to the office to get the paperwork and see where he can go after that.”

“And I’m assuming if you don’t find anywhere suitable he’s going back home with you?”

He bent down and looked through the window where Sean was sitting awkwardly, pale arms looped around his bag in his lap, looking a little jittery. “Yeah, you know how it is.”

“Mm-hm. Well, at least he’s out of there.”

“Exactly. Thanks for that, MacTaggert.”

“Yeah, yeah, it won’t be the last time.”

He grinned into the phone, equal parts amused and disheartened, “Probably not. See you later.”

“Bye, Erik.”

He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. He started the car and switched on the heating and demister. He turned to Sean. “Got everything you need? I can always go back in to get anything you’ve missed. I asked your Dad about medication but he said he didn’t really know…”

Sean gave a small shake of his head. “Nah. Can we just go?”

“Yeah.”

The boy would probably need to see a doctor for a check-up, but Erik had refrained from telling him much more than where they were about to go - one step at a time. He turned back to the windscreen. Small blooms of cleared glass were appearing above the heating vents. He pulled out some tissues from the compartment below the steering wheel and wiped up most of the remaining condensation. He checked that Sean had his seatbelt on and pulled away from the kerb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darwin and Sean like sour sweets, Erik thinks about his childhood and Moira insults his fashion sense.

Darwin was very nice, Sean decided, really chilled and down to Earth. Too bad he was only barely out of his training, otherwise or he might’ve been the one to pick him up. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure how Darwin would’ve coped, seeing as Sean didn’t know what his mutation was.

They’d tried a foster carer an hour ago but they’d had no luck and Sean had the joyful experience of waiting on a plastic chair beside his Darwin’s desk while Erik went to photocopy some paperwork about the shit-fest that was Sean’s life. Darwin had popped two sour jellies into his mouth before turning the bag towards Sean.

He’d had imagined social workers were the type to give out toffees or raisins or shit like that. He was glad; he didn’t have the patience for toffee. He remembered being given one when he was four and getting it stuck between his tiny back molars, accidentally letting out a shout of impatience that gave his mother a day-long earache and startling old Mrs Richards next door. His parents hadn’t been best pleased. Plus, toffee had a weird aftertaste.

He rubbed the sour sugar from the corner of his mouth and looked up when Erik returned, holding a small wad of paper. “Alright?” he queried shortly.

Sean nodded, “What now?”

“I’m going to drop this extension order off, then we’ll see about getting you settled down with a good foster placement. The lady I want to try now is great, really experienced and friendly.” _Friendlier than me, for sure,_ Erik thought.

A flash of unease appeared on Sean’s face. It was going to be so awkward living in another person’s house, especially if there were other kids. He hadn’t brought a lot of stuff with him and he didn’t know what his parents were going to do. _Fuck, Mam and Dad._ Erik seemed to pick up on it.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. If you really don’t like it, you can tell me. But I’m going be honest with you, we don’t have a lot of options.”

 _For mutant kids_ , Sean inferred. He took a few more jellies for the road and said bye to Darwin, who gave him a thumbs up from behind his computer.

\---

“Erik, I can’t, I’ve already got four of them sharing and I’m not about to make Marie do it too. We’re pushed for space as it is and she needs it more than any of them. I wish I could help but I can’t right now. Maybe in a while, when Laura’s dad gets out of the hospital, but not now. I’m sorry.”

Erik sighed. “I know, I understand. Just thought I’d try anyway.”

“Yeah. It feels like every time I let one go there’s already another ten waiting to fill the space.”

“That’s because it’s probably true.”

Ororo Munroe had been Erik’s first choice but had been shifted down his mental list, given her responsibilities. He’d worked with her for the past three years and had found her to be a highly competent and empathic foster carer. Her status as a mutant was an invaluable jewel in her application; mutants understood mutants, simple as that. Of course, there were many perfectly good non-mutant foster carers who took in mutant children, but Ororo was someone Erik held in the highest regard. Ororo housed seven mutants and four non-mutants currently, with the other carers in the home, Jaya and Pete, who were several years younger.

He could understand her difficulty. Like him, she was overburdened with as many young people that she could support. It was a good thing they were passionate about their life choices.

She tucked a lock of white-grey hair behind her ear and leant sideways to look at Sean through the passenger side window of Erik’s car. “How’s he holding up?”

Erik twisted slightly to accommodate her view. “Surprisingly well. He’s not screamed since he left the house, he’s answered all my questions and been pretty patient. I still feel like it’s down to the shock and stress more than anything else. If I piss him off he might just blow all the windows in my house.”

Ororo snapped her gaze back to Erik’s. “He can do that?”

“Mm-hm. The vibrations are pretty strong. But I think with a little more practice he could control the pitch and frequency to make them almost silent.”

She nodded absent-mindedly, partly impressed, but also very accustomed to the incredible skills she’d witnessed over the years. She fixed Erik with a measured gaze. “You said your house?”

“It’s going to have to be, at least for this week. I only tried you as a stab in the dark, everywhere else I know is full for sure or not really suitable for someone of his capacity and background.”

They’d dropped by a non-mutant foster carer half an hour ago. He had a brother and mother with mild mutations so was quite familiar with the very specific needs of a mutant child. However he was currently looking after one, as well as two other non-mutants who had actually only been placed the day before. The short notice placements meant that Erik had not been aware that Patrick was now fully occupied.

“Well good luck, I’m sure something’ll turn around.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping.”

They bid each other farewell and Erik jogged back over to the driver’s side. Sean could tell from their facial expressions through the window that it been another dud and said as much.

“Unfortunately. However that means you get the privilege of staying at mine.”

“Yippee.” Sean wasn’t exactly delighted.

He liked Erik, but somehow staying with him felt weirder than staying with someone new. Over the past half a day he’d gotten acquainted with the man with terrifying speed and didn’t like the fact that every minute more allowed Erik to dissect him and inspect further layers, whereas in a house of many people he could’ve easily batted away their attentions and slipped into the background.

He’d wanted nothing more than that. He was tired and insecure and didn’t want to evaluate that second feeling too closely right now.

He dropped his head back slightly to avoid the glare of the orange streetlamps that had illuminated over the past twenty minutes as seven pm approached. He imagined eating pizza or fish fingers and then sitting in embarrassing agony at opposite ends of the sofa whilst the man offered to play DVDs of _Finding Nemo_ or _The Simpsons Movie_. Actually, that was pretty funny. Maybe he had a giant secret collection he watched with ice-cream when he got dumped. He let out a choked snort and Erik eyed him warily.

Right, he didn’t seem all that cuddly, but maybe that was a good thing. At least he wasn’t an asshole. At least he wasn’t his Dad.

\---

“So… this is it. You can drop your stuff in the spare bedroom. The bathroom’s next to it and there are spare towels in the cupboard. There’s some new toothbrushes and floss on the top shelf too, if you need. I’ll be down here.”

Erik had been gesturing towards the stairs, then vaguely twitching his wrist to punctuate his instructions whilst texting Moira of the developments. He pressed _send_ and looked up at Sean, giving what he hoped was a welcoming smile. The boy just shuffled up towards the spare room. Once Erik heard the doors opening and closing he wandered into the kitchen and dropped his phone and keys on the counter, rubbing his face and dragging a hand back through his hair.

Whenever he had to house a kid, he tried to make something from scratch on the first night. It was all rooted in his own perception of comfort, he supposed. He knew that when he was a kid, he appreciated a home-cooked meal far more than take-away pizzas or burgers, never mind what the average teenager enjoyed. It showed effort, that the person included him in their world rather than a temporary lodger they had to feed. A bit strange but it was true, for him at least.

He rooted around in the fridge and pulled out some wrapped raw chicken and whatever vegetables he could find; red peppers, courgettes, tomatoes. He was cleaning and chopping the chicken when Sean slipped into the kitchen, looking understandably uncomfortable.

“Want a drink? There’s some orange juice in the fridge, or there might be a can of Sprite, I can’t remember.” He didn’t really have much taste for fizzy drinks, usually only got them with meal deals when he and Moira were too bogged down with paperwork on a late weekday night to cook.

Sean hesitated for a moment, then went to the fridge and carefully pulled out the carton of juice before pouring some into a glass Erik put out for him. He went back to chopping and studiously avoided looking up at all as Sean downed the measure with poorly veiled thirst. He doubted the boy wasn’t fed at home, but he did doubt the attention paid to what and when he did eat.

“I’m making chicken with-” he leant across to a cupboard to check, “-rice. That okay?”

“Um, yeah sure.”

“Hand me that bowl, would you?”

Sean did just that and the two stood in a surprisingly companionable silence, occasionally rippled with the odd comment or instruction. Sean watched as Erik stirred the simmering pot and moved to get the rice. He poured in two mugs of rice and brought the mixture to the boil before dropping the heat and placing the lid on. Sean was leaning on the counter, staring in his general vicinity but lost in thought.

Erik gently said, “We had a bit of a run-around, but next time I’ll call ahead so you don’t have to keep coming in and out. We only did that today because I’d rather you weren’t left waiting alone for too long.”

Sean shrugged. “S’okay. Darwin was cool.” He paused, “… what can he do? I mean, I saw his ID, so…”

Erik lifted the lid to stir the rice. Mutant IDs had a small icon beside the registration number. Erik’s was there, as was Darwin’s, but it was beginning to get scuffed away. He really ought to get a replacement soon because his picture was a little out of date too.

“He can adapt. He changes depending on his environment. He goes swimming, gets gills. He gets a paper-cut, heals almost instantly. Pretty cool, really.”

Sean nods, eyebrows raised. “That’s so cool. I didn’t wanna ask, you know, in case it was touchy…”

“No, go ahead, none of us mind. It’s good that you ask - it’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Plus, technically, you have every right to ask. We spend time with you and you’re staying in my house.”

Sean relaxed minutely. He stayed relaxed until it came to eat and Erik could feel him getting antsy again. He beckoned Sean to sit in front his steaming plateful as he sat in front of his. At that moment, his phone began to ring. “I’ll get that, you eat, before it gets cold.”

It was useful, really. He didn’t like people watching him eat, either. They had been so concerned with his weight at his first home, seeing his naturally gangly physique and wanting to thicken it up, despite his perfectly good upbringing.

He answered the call in the living room and shut the door behind himself. It was Moira, of course.

“How are things? I guess Ororo didn’t have any space?”

“No, but I think it’s better this way, gives him a chance to settle down in the quiet. He still seems kinda twitchy.”

“Hmm, that’s good to know – I was calling with something else to tell you though. The benefit gala’s next Friday and you should go. You didn’t go to the last one.”

“Yeah?” Erik considered it for a moment. He hadn’t been able to attend the last one because of a particularly busy week (but then _all_ his weeks were busy). He would probably still have Sean, judging by the poor outlook on placements, but he could probably get someone to sit in with him, maybe Darwin. And he did want to go. Generally, it was more senior figures in the civil servant hierarchy who had automatic invitations, with a few representatives from each branch after. There was never a significant mutant presence, but it had been growing over the years.

“You should definitely go, Erik. There are going to be some speakers from welfare charities, mutant included. Plus, the guest list has a lot more donors than last year.” Moira hinted.

“I know what you’re getting at, Moira, but I’ve tried. People are just too self-absorbed to see mutant support services as a massive priority right now.”

Moira sighed, sensing Erik’s annoyance. “Yes, but listen, if you would. One of the guests is going to be some professor-slash-businessman-slash-moneybags. But the most interesting thing…?”

Erik could almost see Moira’s face, leading him like a duck with breadcrumbs. “Yes?”

“He’s a telepath.”

Erik’s _was_ surprised with that. Mutant, with money _and_ possibly using it for a cause not his own? It wasn’t greatly common, which narrowed it down to one of the only out-and-proud telepaths he’d heard of.

“His name is-”

“-Xavier, maybe?”

He knew Moira was pouting, the climax stolen from her. “Yes, Charles Xavier. It’s the first time he’s shown up so I think he’s going to want to invest somewhere. Give him that opportunity.”

“You really think he’ll go for it? It’s not a simple one-time thing.”

“You’ve got nothing to lose by _asking_. Besides, free food and wine.”

Erik chuckled. “There is that.”

“Ooh, his picture is not bad, I must say.”

“…Are you stalking him right now?”

“No! Just creeping on his Facebook.”

“Which is practically stalking.”

“No it’s not, stalking is done over a period of time.” She stated matter-of-factly, “Oh but he looks kind of young. Well, around our age, but not mature gentleman-like. You know, the kind you could flirt money out of.”

“Moira, I am not going to be flirting money out of rich men, mature or otherwise.”

“Okay, okay… that can be Plan B, then.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Okay, put me down as attending. You or Darwin can sit in with Sean.”

“Of course. Also, you’ve got to show me the suit you’re going to wear first. I am _not_ letting you go with your drab standard get-up.”

Erik was offended. “My suits are not _drab_. They’re perfectly smart.”

“They were smart five years ago, Erik. This is a fancy black-tie do. You need to look the part.”

“Fine, fine. Come round this Wednesday.” That’ll give him time to shoot down most of her suggestions and a week to reluctantly make some additions to his wardrobe.

“Great, we’ll get you looking good. That way if you offend anyone with your mutant righteousness they can just pat your pretty head and move on.”

“Goodnight, Moira.” He deadpanned.

“Night-night!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira thinks that a little bit of underhanded canoodling wouldn't hurt Erik's chances of success ;D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira works her magic, Erik gets nervous and Charles is hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over so fanfic writing is resuming, obviously. Sorry about the wait, hope you enjoyed - Charles finally arrived :D.

Moira had sounded far too pleased with his attendance. He was happy, though; he’d wanted to do something _more_ for a long time now, but his job and the lack of funding meant that they were only _just_ keeping their heads above water with their cases as it was.

He hoped this Xavier guy was ambitious. And generous. Both. It wasn’t an easy feat, setting up a main office, telephone lines, computer system, getting volunteers, training them all… but he’d thought about other options and this seemed, in his head, to be the most effective in theory. Confidential, indirect; an impartial source of information for mutant kids and parents.

There were already small support centres around (though not enough). This was definitely something different, and who knows, if they get this off the ground, what if more spring up around the country? They could connect them, make it all one uniform service-

And he was running away on his own mental tangent, as per usual. He hadn’t even met the man and chances were that he would write a small check and Erik would be left trying to budget and organise and publicise alone. Alongside his job. Maybe he was being too wishful, mayb-

“Stop thinking.” Moira flicked the side of his head.

He scowled and sighed. “I don’t know why you’re so stuck on my suit.”

“Because, like I’ve already told you multiple times, it will be a formal event with lots of important – and rich – people. If you want to make a good impression, you’ve got to look and act and _smell_ the part. You need to take yourself as seriously as you take your proposal.”

Erik rolled his eyes, conceding her point. Then he frowned. “…Smell?”

“Animal magnetism, pheromones, shit like that. It’ll help with Plan B.” She grinned saucily.

“Moira! Stop trying to set me up with strange old men!”

Her eyes softened. “I would be deeply concerned if you hooked up with a ‘strange old man’. I just mean that, well… you don’t _do_ a lot else but work. And research and work. And drink coffee and visit the kids and help out at the centre and _work_. It might be nice to do something else for a change, just talk to new people, show them the kind of work we do and get appreciated for it.”

Erik looked away for a moment, suddenly filled with an affection for Moira he’d always had but probably didn’t express nearly enough. She grinned at that, damn her.

“Plus, I mean, if you got laid once in a while I don’t think it would do you any harm. Sex is a perfectly natural thing and it’s good to…” she looked around for the word and fought a smile, “…decompress.”

As quick as it came, the upsurge of affection was gone. “I don’t need to ‘decompress’.” He responded, fingers air-quoting the last word.

She snorted. “Yeah… sure you don’t.”

She stepped back from rifling through the rail of shirts, brandishing a deep green shirt on a hanger in front of her, appraising it before thrusting it into Erik’s hands. “Try that one. It’ll bring out your pretty eyes.”

He scowled again. “Stop objectifying me, woman.”

“Just restoring the balance.” She called out towards his retreating back, already distracted by a rack of ties, which were very conveniently not too far from some _gorgeous_ summer dresses.

He went into the changing room and slipped the different components of his outfit on. He paused, turning to his side to eye the line of the charcoal fabric. He begrudgingly accepted Moira’s sartorial wisdom. It was certainly a step up from his current array of less fitted grey and black suits, white shirts and simple ties.

He didn’t often need to dress overtly smartly, but when he did it was only ever for hearings and court cases involving his less fortunate charges. Black and white tended to send the message of _‘I will not be fucked with’_ quite well, he found. Or maybe it was the general aura he seemed to radiate when in the presence of detestable people. Hmm.

“Are you quite finished staring at your own arse, Lehnsherr?”

He snapped open the changing room door with a dirty look at his ‘friend’, who was standing beside a giggling attendant who was, to her credit, trying not to giggle too openly. Her eyes bulged slightly as he emerged, laughter subsiding. He didn’t think he looked _that_ annoyed… maybe it was that aura again.

Moira was nodding to herself, smirking. “See that? Wasn’t so painful now, was it?”

“Do I meet your approval?”

“One second.” She whipped out a tie and slung it around his neck, sliding it beneath his collar. Both of their hands came up to fix it in place.

“Much better.”

The tie was a slate grey with a light weave design. Apparently it was important to balance textures or something like that. He didn’t know and frankly didn’t care too greatly. He glanced into the full-length mirror on the wall. She was right, of course she was. “Okay. Good. I’ll get them, then.”

Moira shook her head and chuckled as he disappeared again to redress.

\---

She waited for him at the entrance before returning to his car. It had only just hit six pm, to his pleasant surprise, though he hadn’t really expected much less; Moira was scarily efficient.

“Um, thanks for this.” He raised the large bag awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it. After all, you’re the one paying. And it would be a crime to not use my gift to help others in need.” She replied solemnly.

“I’m not _that_ bad, thanks.”

She laughed, “Oh yeah, I know – the girl in the shop made that blatantly obvious.”

Erik jerked his head at her.

“Oh come on, didn’t you see the way she was looking at you?”

“Er, no.”

Moira grimaced, “Gawd, you _really_ need to get out more.”

\---

He dropped Moira off home and made his own way back. Darwin had agreed to sit in with Sean after school and he was playing Candy Crush on Darwin’s phone when Erik got in. “Okay?”

Sean nodded, smiling, before dropping his gaze back down to the screen. He had improved immensely since the day Erik first picked him up.

He was less tense, slowly sleeping better and adjusting to life at Erik’s. They hadn’t been able to find another place for him, especially as he was already here so wasn’t seen as quite as high a priority as he had been initially. The fact Sean was a mutant added a whole other confusing layer. He still was a priority, but people seemed to forget that Erik was _not_ a foster carer first. He was cleared to keep kids on an emergency basis, not long-term. But that’s just how things had fallen together so he’d deal with it, after all, there were far worse places Sean could be.

Erik hooked his jacket over the bannister as Darwin got up from the couch and ambled over to him, grinning warmly. “Got the five-star treatment?”

“Something like that,” he smiled. “How were things?”

“Oh fine, fine, he’s a good kid. Beating all my high scores at the moment. He’ll be on to Flappy Bird next. But everything seems to be relaxing now, I think.”

“That’s great.” It really was. There were a whole host of possible complications and issues and difficulties when it came to settling kids down again. Considering Sean’s rather striking first impression, he’d had a comparatively uneventful time thus far.

“Let’s have a look.” Darin peeked into the bag, eyeing the shirt. He raised his eyebrows, “Nice colour.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Thanks. She enjoyed herself way too much.”

“Aha, I can only imagine.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn.”

“Hey, man, she can _try_. I am a sharp dresser.”

Sean wandered into the room, still prodding at the phone every now and again. “This for that party thing?”

“Yep. It’ll be this Friday so Darwin’ll be staying again.” He glanced over for confirmation.

Sean smiled. “Sweet.”

Darwin replied, “Of course, me and Sean, pizza and Erik’s Netflix. It’ll be awesome.”

\---

Two days later Erik left them to do just that. He wanted to stay with them, just a little bit. Maybe a bit more than that. Maybe a whole lot. Nerves decided to make their belated appearance.

What if no-one took him seriously? What if his ideas didn’t sound as good outside his head and he was laughed out of the building? What if he said something stupid and got into an argument? Fuck. For all his carefully thought out reasoning and impeccable presentation, he wasn’t cut out for this. He was a social worker, not a politician.

He started the car and checked his pockets for his phone and keys. He set off, a lead weight slowly solidifying on his diaphragm.

\---

Despite the wine and fairly pleasant conversation, Charles’ enthusiasm was beginning to wither. He had been gearing himself up for this ever since it had crossed his inbox. He found immense satisfaction in guiding young people with potential whilst teaching, but even more so when they were mutants. They were often driven by a stronger urge to learn, especially those with disabling or more physical mutations. There was no blatant discrimination against mutants seeking admission – however it was almost fact that proportionately fewer mutants entered into higher education. With that in mind he did what he could to support those that did.

Xavier Biotech, whilst not under his direction, had been successful over the years and amassed a significant net profit. He had wanted to put some of it to good use for a while now and charity had always been the main option in his head, so when the offer of attending the welfare gala had come up – one which specifically included mutant children as a separate area of focus – he had jumped at the chance.

He may not have the time nor planning to put together something to help young mutants, but he could certainly provide a helping hand.

Whilst there were many managing directors and CEOs present, only around half of the ones he had been in contact with had any legitimate intention of donating, with most of them doing it for the favourable publicity. In a way, it’s wasn’t all bad - being charitable, in the eyes of society, was a good thing. However it was somewhat grating, especially when he caught more than one unsavoury thought about mutations, even towards himself.

He found his mood lifting as he felt a cluster of minds towards one area of the room, most broadcasting some form of ability. He gravitated towards them and felt a plethora of contrasting powers, from something as mild as glow-in-the-dark freckles to empathic projection. _Amazing_. One of the organisers recognised him and began to introduce him to some of the guests around them. Within the space of five minutes the young woman, Grace, had introduced him to four charity volunteers, three social workers and a handful of other members of the welfare system.

He had not encountered a single other potential donor. That was troubling, never mind the fact that many of the mutant guests had somehow floated to one side of the room. Charles’ attention was diverted to rest upon a lean man who Grace had drawn towards them. He could feel slight surprise and disdain blotted on the man’s consciousness, aimed at Grace’s grip on his arm. It melted away when he clapped eyes on Charles.

“Oh, Mr Xavier, this is Erik Lehnsherr, he’s a social worker.”

“Oh, just Charles is fine, Grace.” He smiled at them both and offered the man his hand.

He took it and they shook efficiently. “Erik.”

Everything about this man’s mind seemed to be just as efficient, neat spaces and clean borders. It wasn’t quite as colourful or vivacious as others, but intriguing in its own right. It was very… contained. That in itself spoke volumes. Either the man was naturally so closed or he was one of the many (numerous) people who felt threatened by telepathy. Wonderful.

“I assume you work nearby?”

“Yes; I’m based in Bronx but work Queens, Westchester and… pretty much where I’m needed.”

Charles raised his brows. “That’s a lot of territory.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re understaffed. Mutant cases outnumber mutant case workers eight-to-one. We’re spread as thinly as they can get away with.”

Grace slid in, “Erik here’s a real gem. Most of us had heard of him even if we hadn’t met him before – he pulls cases left, right and centre.”

The man in question gave a thin-lipped smile, somewhat abashed. “I’m not as impressive as she makes me sound. I just do what I can.” He said finally.

Charles smiled. “Well I hope you continue to do so. It sounds like it’s making a real difference.”

Erik’s mind was becoming all the more interesting. It had remained smooth and focussed throughout, only a small flutter here and there, little pulses of activity as he strung together his thoughts. Whilst Charles did not pry deeply enough to understand them, he automatically followed the movements of someone’s mind as an automatic instinct; an extra sense. Erik’s thoughts were converging precisely in a way that was very satisfying to sense.

“There was something in particular that I had wanted to discuss with you. Charles.” He added as an afterthought.

“I would love to hear it.”

At this point Grace deftly excused herself as the conversation moved away from small talk and pleasantries. Erik’s mind seemed to loosen by a notch at this. Charles watched inquisitively as Erik took a mental breath before speaking.

“I’ve been working with kids for years now, ever since I qualified. I’ve seen the trends that have been developing over the years and there’s so much that can be done to change them. Kids in these kinds of situations are scared. Even if they’ve got the most supportive families in the world they’re going to be scared. I feel like if they had somewhere they could turn – without the fear of judgement, or having their names written down – they’d be able to cope better. We’d be able to help them without putting them in boxes.”

Charles pursed his lips. Some sort of confidential service? The idea has its merits, he supposes; it’s just never had an advocate. He imagined himself, nine years old and terrified, slowly realising that he could hear things no-one else could and the need to hide himself or put things in between himself and people to stop them getting in. It had been exhausting, up until he developed his own haphazard shielding and spent his adolescence filling in the holes.

He looked at Erik and had the startling notion that he wasn’t alone in that.

The other man frowned with the merest down-turning of lips at Charles’ silence. “I mean, if we can give them a safe space to speak then it could improve lives as well as act as a preventative measure.”

Charles emerged from his reverie. “That sounds like a very ambitious plan,” he continued as Erik’s mind bristled, “…but not impossible.”

Erik’s frown melted away and Charles pursed his lips, thinking. He pulled out his wallet and took out a business card, along with a pen from his inside breast pocket. He scribbled something down on it and handed it to Erik, who looked a little taken aback. He didn’t expect such an encouraging response… or the man’s personal mobile number.

Charles gave another smile, though a little more subdued. “I hope you don’t mind, my friend, but I’ve noticed that you’re a little tense about all this,” he gestured awkwardly to his temple, “We’re all on the same side, you don’t need to persuade me of anything. I can already see how committed you are, Erik. I would love to help you with whatever plans you have in mind.”

Erik had to fight to keep his jaw up. He had arrived fully armed to fight and didn’t quite know what to make of Charles. He settled with pocketing the card. “…I’m very glad to hear that. And I don’t mind, you know, when you pick things up. Your mutation is just a part of you as anything else.”

Charles’ responding grin was dazzling. “I’m glad to hear that too – would you mind telling me a little more about your mutation? It feels very strong, from what I can sense.”

Erik’s mind brightened, pleased with the turn of discussion it seemed. With a flourish of long, elegant fingers, Charles’ mobile rose out of his pocket and landed in Erik’s hand. The man smiled properly for the first time that evening, obviously proud of his mutation. “Oh, telekinesis? Wonderful.”

“Metallokinesis.”

“By manipulation of magnetic fields?” Charles queried, fascinated.

Erik blinked. “Er, yes. Not many people know that. But then, not many people are professors.”

Charles grinned, taking in Erik’s slightly flushed face and ducking his head bashfully. “Quite.”

“I can reach much further than this, but can’t really demonstrate it, as you probably understand.” He floated Charles’ phone back into his hand.

Erik’s mind was far more relaxed now than when Charles first laid eyes on him. It was a very lovely mind for Charles to have on his periphery. “How about we grab a drink and see if anyone else here is interested as I am in what you’ve got,” he grinned playfully, turning away.

Erik paused and only just stopped his eyes from widening. “Ah, sure.”

With Charles beside him, he felt cautiously more hopeful than he had in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, kudos/comments appreciated :)


End file.
